


Even If You Change

by sofonisba_found



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M, Magic, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Romance, Spring Fling, Transformation, Winter, classic questing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-20
Updated: 2015-03-20
Packaged: 2018-03-18 16:47:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3576717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sofonisba_found/pseuds/sofonisba_found
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was a land once, that was more than a little bit magic. And in that land there were two boys, named Steve and Bucky, who from their first meeting decided that it was far better for them to be together than apart, and so endeavored to remain so as they grew into men.</p><p>But even places that are more than a little bit magic, are often far from kind. So when you are separated from the one you love, you have no choice but to fight to get them back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Even If You Change

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MaraVelcu (FuryReina)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=MaraVelcu+%28FuryReina%29).



> alright, so this is DONE, just under the wire, and quite a bit longer than initially intended :p :) many thanks to the wonderful [pinetreekate](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Too_Old/pseuds/pinetreekate) for providing insanely last minute beta services and helping me flesh certain areas out. any mistakes that remain are my own. and also big thanks to [anne](http://aeroplaneblues.tumblr.com/)  
> for being my cheerleader and yelling at me in THREE different languages to finish writing. 
> 
> MaraVelcu said they were cool with any AU settings with some romance/fluff and the like involved, so i hope this fits the bill :) i let living on the east coast and the belief that i would never be warm inspire me, along with my love of the cadence of classic fantasy and fairytales :) i hope that MaraVelcu and all y'all enjoy reading this, and i always welcome comments and CONSTRUCTIVE criticism.

There was a land, once. 

Maybe it was a sometimes a little bit mundane, maybe it was more than a little bit magical. 

Maybe it was sometimes cruel, and maybe it was sometimes kind. 

What is important is that it was, that the people there lived as people do every place in existence, with failures and triumphs, people hurting others to get what they wanted, and others letting themselves get hurt to protect those who could not take the blows. 

Many perform the latter action, and for all the good they do and sacrifices they make, are never remembered beyond those whose lives intersected their own. 

And some become the subject of tales to enthrall and inspire throughout the ages, the story spread to lands the participants had never known existed. 

There was a land, once. 

Maybe it was a sometimes a little bit mundane, maybe it was more than a little bit magical. 

Maybe it was sometimes cruel, and maybe it was sometimes kind. 

What is important is that it was, and that within it lived two boys whose stories could very easily have been those of a quiet life lived as well as could be. But due to chance and luck both good and bad, and most importantly love, their story has lived on. 

There was a land, once. 

And in the crowded streets of one the great cities of the land, that is where Steve and Bucky first met. 

* 

They met as children, a wonderful time for anyone to meet, when the world is still fresh and ripe with potential, when possibilities are only a dream away, even if you are a small and skinny child with a crooked spine and can never seem to get enough air, even if you are but one of many children and hunger for something, or even better someone, all for your own. 

They were a matched set in souls if not appearances, going to school together to learn their letters and history, to the market on errands for their mothers together, staring wide eyed together at the latest traveling magician come to town, with their trained wyverns and charms and spells, and getting into fights together in every neighborhood around town to try and right what wrongs they saw, no matter that they always promised their families and themselves that they would stop for their own health. 

Because some people are meant to be heroes in their hearts even if the rest of the world or their own bodies haven’t caught up to the facts yet. 

And so Steve knew the truth of his heart and fought whenever he saw a wrong, Bucky no more than a step behind. 

“You know you don’t have to be the one to fight every time,” Bucky said on more than one occasion, often as he smeared a pungent salve supposedly containing basilisk tears on Steve’s cuts and bruises to numb the pain. 

“You don’t have to be the one to follow me in and patch me up every time either,” was Steve’s frequent retort, usually followed by an involuntary wince when Bucky was less than gentle with his ministrations, and later a sigh as Bucky complained about something unrelated to the fight like the unnaturally colored fumes that emanated from Stark’s house of alchemy and metallurgy, or the difficulty in keeping things private from his sister as she had managed to befriend all of the brownies on their block and got them to snoop for her. 

That was the way things went on more or less, time after time with only slight variations. Until the day Bucky once more said; 

“You know you don’t have to be the one to fight every time,” 

And Steve replied; 

“You don’t have to be the one to follow me in and patch me up every time either,” and instead of continuing on as normal, Bucky set down the container of salve and looked Steve square in the eyes, an expression had seen a thousand times, yet never been able to define, on his face. 

“But I do have to, I really do,” Bucky said softly, every word radiating the purest truth, before leaning down and pressing his lips to Steve’s. 

“Oh,” Steve said once the kiss, true love’s first kiss on the back steps of reasonably reputable pawn shop, was finished. “I guess you do.” 

He then stood up and they shared true love’s second and third kisses, and as the days went on the tally of kisses rose, as well as some of true love’s other activities. 

And so Bucky and Steve were as one, separated only briefly as the years went on due to Bucky’s work sometimes taking him out of town, but always coming back to Steve by the hour he promised to return, even if that hour was a fortnight or more away. At some point Steve had developed the habit of teasing Bucky that after one of his trips he would come back to find Steve a new man and unrecognizable, be it with newly acquired finery, or a mishap at Erskine’s Apothecary where he worked turning his hair blue, or him finally growing out of his ailments and into a new as big and strong as Bucky’s, if not even more. 

And after Steve had finished detailing his next imaginary transformation, Bucky would sweep him up in his arms and pronounce; 

“Even if you change, I’d love you just the same.” 

It was a pattern that remained reasonably steady until the day during one of the coldest and longest winters in memory when the town magistrate announced that due to the seemingly unending freezing winds and temperatures, and the dangerous dwindling of supplies needed by rich and poor alike, an incentive would be offered to any merchant company and their employees who would brave the even harsher elements outside the town walls to reach warmer climes for trade. 

The merchant Bucky worked for normally held off going on trading excursions for the more temperate times of year, as safer travel meant fewer complications and more profits, but the stock of firewood and oil, phoenix ash tea and grain, were so low that he had been considering sending out some of his more reliable and capable staff even before the official announcement removed any reticence. 

Bucky, of course, was going to be one of the ones to go. Regarded by most who knew him as strong and level headed, he was well trusted by his fellow employees, and most importantly, Steve was one of the ones most ill affected by the cold. 

Bucky never looked forward to leaving Steve at any time, not when the weather was fair and his breathing was stronger and his skin pinked, and least of all when his skin was so white Bucky had nightmares about losing him to the snow when he was able to sleep, or when the harsh rattle beneath Steve’s breath kept him awake in worry, curled around him to try and share his warmth. 

“I’ll be fine,” Steve promised as he secured a red scarf around Bucky’s throat, trying to reassure himself as much as Bucky, even though he shivered as another gust of wind sliced through the buildings to where Bucky and his fellows were finishing up last minute preparations to leave. “You’ll be the one out there running the risk of coming across trolls or wolves or whatever frightful things feel at ease in the snow.” 

“I think even most frightful things are tucked away for this winter, at least until we get much closer to the Southern peninsula. They would have more sense than us if they do anyway,” Bucky replied, checking the straps on his pack one last time, relatively convincing in his attempt at good cheer. “You’re the one who manages to get in trouble at the best of times. If I’m not here to distract you who knows how much more trouble you’ll get into?” 

“There’s no one out and about to make trouble for me to get into these days, it’s too cold even for the bullies and thugs to be out bothering people. Watch, when you come back I’ll have been so bored I will have fallen asleep in a bowl of something odd at Erskine’s and have grown a third eye,” Steve said, earning the expected laugh from Bucky as he swept Steve up in his arms and whispered in his ear; 

“Even if you change, I’d love you just the same,” – 

And gently grazed his lips across Steve’s face until they met Steve’s own mouth in a kiss, one they held as long as they were able, until a pointed cough behind Bucky signaled that it was time to go. 

“And you,” Steve called out as Bucky took his seat at the reins of the lead wagon, “You promise me you’ll be alright too!” 

“Of course I will. I will never leave you, not for good.” Bucky said, tenderly looking down into Steve’s eyes, loath to part. Steve reached up to grab hold of Bucky’s left hand one more time before stepping back so that they could depart. 

Bucky prompted the horses to start, and as they started to trot away, called out, “Besides, I’m looking forward to seeing you with that third eye too much to let anything happen to me!” His laughter was almost entirely swallowed up in the biting wind, but enough of it made it back to Steve to warm his heart. 

And as the wagons left the city gates Steve turned around and went back to his daily routine of work and home and truthfully hardly any fights, shivering in the cold and unsure of what he wished for the most, for him to be out on the road with Bucky making sure he kept his promise, or for Bucky to be back home trying to make Steve keep his. 

* 

After weeks of waiting through the ceaseless and almost unnatural winter, but still a time before the estimated return date of the trading caravans, some of the men and women who had set out returned. They bore no goods, their own meager traveling supplies all but demolished, what remained bearing the scars of fire and blades. 

Over two dozen wagons had been sent out with full teams by five of the most ambitious or desperate merchant companies. Only six wagons returned to the town. 

The word of their return made its way quickly through the frozen town, the cold and ice no longer a deterrent for the curious and anxious citizens. There were hushed whispers and tears and shouts of grief throughout the town, some in mourning for the many who had not come back huddled and ashen faced in those few wagons, others despondent looking at their own families and the still dwindling supplies of both food and fuel. 

Steve did not make any sound when Erskine came to speak to him at his work bench, save a wheezing cough that came over him as he tried to race through the cold streets covered with both ice and snow to the town meeting hall where he knew the survivors had to have been taken to be looked to and questioned by their employers and the magistrate. 

He was far from the only one to have the idea of seeking out the returned merchant teams, and upon his arrival found the hall nearly full to the brim with officials, curious and concerned citizens, and in the middle of the hall closest to the lit braziers, the returned. 

He could not see Bucky, though Steve realized that there was a discussion going on between the magistrate and some of the more verbal returnees. He wormed his way through the crowd until he was close enough to hear even with his weak ears. 

“It was an average journey for the first few weeks, at least as average as anything can be when setting out in the dead of an accursed winter,” said one woman, with brown hair and determined eyes. “No worries about bandits because they had more sense to stay out of the weather than we did, the horses were holding on as well as could be expected considering the cold. But even when we had traveled south enough that the weather should have been milder, the winter remained in full force. Route markers that should have never in their existence seen more than a dusting of snow were nearly completely covered with the damned stuff.” 

“But we kept on. There wasn’t any other option. It wasn’t until we reached the traveler’s way station that…” the woman took a deep breath. 

“That inn has been run by the same family as far back as anyone can remember. Always conscientious and sure to keep the place ready for groups big or small no matter what the weather. But the hitching posts were covered with snow, as was the path to the stables. A group from the first wagon went to investigate the stables while some of us went into the inn to ask the owner what was wrong. We saw neither hair nor hide of the old man or his wife, nor any of their children. Instead there was a little man with glass spectacles sitting by the fire facing the door, and two other men sitting at one of the tables and facing away from us. One of us, Bucky from the Philip’s company, demanded to know where the inn keeper and his family were. And the little man just laughed and said ‘they weren’t able to handle change, but maybe some of you will,’ and then there were screams coming from outside by the stables. And suddenly the men at the table turned around, and one looked normal though his eyes were ice cold, and the other looked as though he had been skinned alive but was still walking around. And the screams were getting louder and weren’t just coming from the stables any more, and Bucky had already gone up to shake the man with the spectacles when the ice eyed man touched what must have been a magic rod to him that gave off sparks and made him jerk like a puppet with its strings cut before falling down to the ground. 

“At that the red man, holding a similar looking rod started to advance toward the rest of us and we fled. We didn’t have any other recourse, we didn’t know the situation, and skinless men and magic tools if not outright wizards…? Not a one of us had more than basic protection charms on us, and that may help you if you get thrown from a horse but not if there’s spells flying about. We might have had a chance against one of them, but not all three, not when we didn’t yet know what was going on outside. 

“And then when we saw what was outside… I do not like it, but I feel we made the right choice to escape as we did. There were bodies and fires everywhere, and others being dragged away by an army that seemed to have come out of nowhere, all bearing what looked like some kind of sea creature insignia. Those of us that had not been hurt or captured tried to help those we could, and managed to get back to the least damaged wagons. Thankfully whoever they were, they weren’t interested in slaughtering the horses. We had to keep who we could safe, we had to get back to tell what had happened, to warn as best we can.” 

For all of the horror of her tale, an unknown army with magic and an unknown but clearly malicious agenda, Steve could right then only truly focus on one aspect of her recounting. 

“And what about Bucky? You said he fell, but that doesn’t mean that he’s not still alive!” he cried out, to the surprise of the officials and his neighbors in the crowd. 

The woman startled, before looking at Steve with sympathy filled eyes. 

“He’s probably dead.” 

“I don’t care about probably, I want to know if he was still breathing when you last saw him! You said people were being taken, that means there’s a chance we could mount a rescue!” 

“As far as I could see he still drew breath, but I couldn’t promise that that’s still-” the woman began before being interrupted by one of the town officials. 

“We will mount no rescue,” he said. 

The crowd around Steve murmured among themselves at the pronouncement. “What? But we have to, the people captured could still be alive,” Steve replied, aghast. 

“Or they could be dead at the hands of wizards in the midst of an unnatural winter. Should we send out the town guards on what could be folly at best and death at worst and leave the town unprotected? It would be best to try to wait out the winter as best we can until we can safely send messengers to the King in the capital so that the Royal army and wizards can be sent,” another official said in agreement with his counterpart. 

“How are you so sure that the town can survive the rest of the winter when you agree it’s unnatural?” Steve asked. “It could outlast us all if it is magic!” 

“Then we must hope that another town or city affected has sent word. We cannot risk leaving ourselves vulnerable in the face of unknown danger based on the wild theories of a distraught citizen who has never left the city walls,” the first official said. 

“Are you speaking of me or yourself?” Steve spat out. “Because I have no fear of what’s outside them.” 

And with that Steve turned and ran from the hall, the shocked crowd parting way for him. 

In that moment Steve made his decision. For years it had been Bucky’s part to follow Steve into a fight and look to him after. Now it was Steve’s turn, even if he had to trudge through an unfamiliar countryside with snowdrifts that rose above the top of his head. 

He stopped by the apothecary to tell Erskine that he was going to try and rescue those who had been captured, as the old man had always been good to Steve and he did not need the unexplained abandonment of his friend and employer on his conscience as he left for what he knew might well be his death. 

The apothecary listened to Steve relay what he had heard from the survivor woman, and his own determination to at least attempt a rescue. He looked extremely contemplative as Steve, with his permission, gathered some healing tinctures and salves and powders for the journey. 

“Steve,” Erskine spoke up just as Steve was at the door ready to leave, “Do you recall the serum I have been tinkering with for years? The one that is meant to bring out great strength upon a person, to make them an ideal and heightened version of themselves?” 

“Yes, of course I do. But you said you never got it quite right. Maybe you’ll have perfected it by my return,” Steve replied optimistically, though he wondered why the apothecary was bringing the failed serum up now. 

“I may have it perfected before you leave. Would you care to put off your departure just a short while to see?” 

“Forgive me, but I need to leave as soon as possible. I wish you the best, but I have no time to aid you in your experiments right now,” Steve said, his foot out the door. 

“You misunderstand me, Steve,” Erskine called out before Steve had gotten for than two steps. “I’m asking if you would be willing to try it.” 

And so they went to Stark’s, where Erskine explained his theories, his talks with the alchemist Stark, that he only had a minute amount of what should be the key ingredient, of some magic origin he could not name, for one last attempt to perfect the formula, all while Stark strapped Steve into a bizarre metallic chamber that was apparently the missing element to the success of the serum. 

“Again, I can’t be sure that this will even work. You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, you know,” Erskine said to Steve as Stark fiddled with his own equipment, sparks of electricity as ‘this’ was connected to ‘that,’ and then to the cask Steve was now encased in. 

“But I do have to, I really do,” Steve replied, as Stark made his final adjustments, and then Steve knew nothing but pain. 

But then after the pain… 

* 

The next morning Steve stood at the town gate, in new clothes and shoes supplied for him by Stark and Erskine as none of his own were even close to fitting anymore. His old pants could not be pulled up higher than his calves, any time he tried to pull on one of his old shirts he was met with the sound of popping seams before he just gave up. He did pack a few of Bucky’s clothes that had always run a little large, but whether they were for Bucky when he found him or to comfort himself he could no fully answer. 

At the gate to see him off were both Erskine and Stark, the two men having personally secured and equipped a wagon, team of horses, and other supplies for the journey. Food and medicines, money and trinkets for trade, and an array of weapons personally crafted by Stark’s house. That both he and Erskine had dipped into their own stores to equip Steve, both with food that they would not be blamed for hoarding for themselves and wares that they should by rights be selling for profit, heartened Steve greatly. 

It might be dried rations, small charms and foul smelling potions, necessary but devoid of any meaning past the obvious to most people, but to Steve it was a show of faith. They were sending him out to succeed, and having that knowledge helped him convince himself that he was worthy of his new strength. 

Steve knew little of fighting beyond fights in the street, but he examined the weapons dutifully, his eye caught by a shield made of a rare metal Stark was saying he was keen to replicate in his lab, when the woman from the other day, the one with the wavy brown hair and intelligent and determined eyes appeared. 

“It’s you,” Steve said unable to hide his surprise as she walked up to the wagon, dressed for travel. 

“And it’s you as well, though you look a little different from yesterday,” she said as she held out her hand. “I don’t believe we were properly introduced when we first met. My name is Peggy, and while choices had to be made earlier, that doesn’t make for any excuses to be making the easy and cowardly ones now. If there’s any chance that we can rescue any of them, I’m with you.” 

“I’m Steve,” Steve said as he shook her hand, her grip firm, “and thank you.” 

“But Steve,” she said, a concerned note in her voice, “this is the first time you or anyone you know has been in a situation like this and…if we do find any of them, if we do find your Bucky, we don’t know what’s been done to them. He may not be the man you remember.” 

“It doesn’t matter,” Steve replied. 

“Even if he’s changed, I’ll love him just the same.” 

Peggy simply looked him in the eye and nodded before setting to stowing her travel pack in the wagon. 

And so after a few more farewells from those who had come to see them off, and Stark putting one more crate into the wagon at the last moment with the instructions to Steve that they be _very_ careful when handling it, Steve and Peggy departed, leaving the frozen but familiar city for the vast expanse of white and cold outside of the walls. 

The first few days on the road were uneventful, Peggy taking the lead on both overall navigation and handling the horses as she had the most experience, while Steve tried to adjust himself to the changes Erskine and Stark’s collaboration had brought about. 

He had never realized how poor his vision had been until he was able to see clearer and further, even through the seemingly ever falling snow. He had never realized how muted all sounds had been until he could hear the creak of the leather harness for the horses, or Peggy hum to herself from what had been his ‘bad’ side. He had never realized how wonderful it was to breathe easily, to not lose heat even through layers of clothes, to have strength and speed. 

He was so different from what he had been. 

He hoped the changes were enough to save Bucky. 

He hoped Bucky would still see that it was him even with all that had changed. 

Whenever they stopped travel to rest the horses, and still had energy themselves, Peggy would do the best she could to teach him how to fight, though the layers of snow and biting cold limited the extent of the training significantly. It was after one of these lessons, while the sun was setting and Steve was prodding at some bruises that never seemed to stay for as long as they used to, when he heard something he hadn’t in weeks. 

Footsteps trudging through the snow that did not belong to either Peggy or himself. 

“There are people coming,” he whispered to Peggy. She paused in her feeding of the horses to listen for herself, before nodding at Steve and momentarily disappearing into the back of the wagon before returning with a sword and the shield for Steve, and a vicious looking crossbow for herself. 

They waited without another word between them, until through the twilight and swirling snow, three people emerged. 

All three were bundled up to protect them from the weather, but that was where the similarities ended. 

One was a man, handsome enough, but in all one you could pass on the street with barely a second glance, but the way he held a bow in his hand said that dismissing him would be a grave error. 

The second was a woman, smaller even than Peggy, but clearly just as dangerous, with red hair that framed her face like a wreath of fire, and sharp eyes that seemed to miss nothing. 

The last was another man, tall and dark, with a patch over his left eye. He held himself as if he were at the command of an army instead of two strange people in the near night and snow. 

“So,” the one-eyed man asked, “what are you two doing out here?” 

“We could ask the same of you,” Peggy said, crossbow aimed at the one-eyed man’s heart. “Or is it normal for you three to journey out into the middle of nowhere with nothing but the clothes on your backs?” 

“I wouldn’t call this the middle of nowhere,” the archer said laconically. “You wait until you visit nowhere, this place is pretty great in comparison.” 

“Yes, we can be very hospitable unlike the sorts you might meet in nowhere,” the woman said, nodding in agreement. 

Steve stepped forward, the hope that they might be helpful warring with the fear that they might be connected to those who attacked the trading caravan leaving no room for patience. “How about we all stop trying to be funny-” 

“Who’s trying to be funny?” The archer asked. 

“I thought it was pretty funny,” the woman added with an arched brow while the one-eyed man looked to be holding back a sigh. 

“We all stop trying to be funny,” Steve said, belatedly realizing that his tone had slipped into the same one he always had when trying to confront a bully or troublemaker. Bucky would sometimes make fun of it after the inevitable fight that would follow, but there was no helping it now. “You just tell us whether you have any connection to a trio of evil men and an army bearing a skull and squid insignia, and we all decide if we’re going to fight each other or not.” 

Peggy glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, but kept her aim steady as they waited for a response, be it good or ill or indifferent. 

The odd group in front of them all exchanged glances amongst themselves, and upon arriving at some unspoken consensus, seemed to reach a decision on how to respond. The archer relaxed his grip on his bow, the woman replaced a knife that Steve hadn’t even seen her holding earlier into a sheath, while the one-eyed man strode confidently forward until he was standing not half a foot away from the point of the bolt in Peggy’s crossbow. 

“My name is Fury,” he said. “And I think we have much to discuss.” 

* 

That they had much to discuss was an understatement, as once Peggy and Steve shared their situation, the information the three told them as they led them and their horses to a hidden cavern filled with more people, was exactly what Steve both feared but knew he needed to hear if he had any hope of moving forward. 

“They call themselves Hydra, though who knows why they wear a skull and squid when anyone who has had a chance to visit any of the great menageries in the capital and beyond know what a damn hydra looks like. Not a squid, by the way, if you are one who hasn’t had the chance yet,” Clint, the archer, informed them as they walked through the chambers of the cavern. Fury had excused himself to speak to a woman with dark hair, and somewhere along the way Clint had somehow procured himself a piece of bread covered with melted cheese from one of the groups of people they passed and was now gnawing messily at it. “I’d recommend going, even though some of the exhibits smell awful.” 

“That’s not exactly relevant, Clint,” said the red haired woman who had introduced herself as Natasha. 

“It’s the truth, though.” 

“Back to Hydra, if you wouldn’t mind?” Peggy asked. 

“Power mad, and I mean that in every way. They wish to exert it, they wish to control it, they wish to possess it. There are Pierce and Johann, they are the leaders, and two of the cruelest men to have been birthed into the world,” Natasha explained as they finally reached their destination, a warm room with a fire pit in the center surrounded by soft furs. Natasha and Clint began to shed their outerwear, and after a moment’s hesitation Steve and Peggy followed suit. “Pierce has the look of a normal man save the coldest eyes ever seen on someone who does not have Ice Maiden blood in their veins, and Johann looks as though someone scraped off his flesh and he found it to his liking. 

“They have a wizard, Zola,” she continued, “a little toad of a man, who has a knack for creating magic artifacts, and a fondness for experimentation on people. He will take a magical being and attempt to bend their will to his own, or he will take a normal human and try to make them magic so that one way or the other he will have new tools and toys.” 

As she finished speaking she removed the last of her bulky garments, leaving her in a sleeveless shirt that showed the markings on her arms and back, like spider legs branching out. 

“You’re an Arachne, are you?” Peggy asked, surprised. “You’re not how I expected you to look.” 

“Well some people get a little uneasy when one of the spider women of legend gives up spinning and is out and about in the world, so I put in a little extra effort to blend in,” Natasha said, as if revealing that her true form had a few additional limbs was an everyday occurrence for her. Maybe it was. 

“And is that how you know about Hydra and Zola and what they wish to do to those who are magic?” Steve asked as Natasha settled down onto one of the furs and leaned against Clint. 

“Years ago, they came and stole me from my web. They made me forget who I was. They tapped my venom, they had me weave and kill in secret for them…” Natasha said staring into the fire. “I’ll see them all dead to make up for the evil that I did before I was finally free of them. It would be a start at least.” 

“And you, Clint?” Peggy ventured, “Is your story similar?” 

“Nah,” Clint said taking a final bite of his bread and cheese. “I’m just a guy. But people like that need to be put down, and I’m ready and able to help with that.” 

“Natasha,” Steve said, chest tight, “you said he does things to people who aren’t already like yourself. That must be why they took captives when they ambushed Peggy and Bucky at the waystation. What exactly does he do to them?” 

“Some of those they take, be they a normal human or someone more like me, they cast enchantments upon to ensure obedience, compulsion collars and chains for those doing more basic tasks, more subtle spells for those like me. They force those captured to use whatever skills they have, be it laboring in a mine or at a forge, or doing their more dangerous dirty work. For instance, before Fury and the others helped me break free, I noticed that they had been actively seeking out weather witches to enthrall. This winter tells me they were successful,” she answered. 

“And for the ones that are experimented upon to truly transform them…none that I have heard of have survived the attempts. 

“It sounds like your friend most likely caught Zola’s interest by trying to confront him. I’m sorry, but it is almost a certainty that he was one chosen to be placed on the altar and experimented upon instead of becoming slave labor. I say this not to be cruel, but so that you should be prepared to face the very real possibility that he is already dead.” 

“He’s not dead. I refuse to believe that,” Steve said, because he had to, he had no other options but to do so. 

Both Clint and Natasha looked at Steve with pity in their eyes, a look Steve had long grown tired of receiving, a look he had never gotten from Bucky. 

“He’s not dead. He’s strong, one of the strongest spirits you’ll ever see, and he promised he would never leave me, not for good,” Steve continued, conviction that he spoke the truth growing with each word. 

“If he is still alive, he’ll be different from who you knew. The methods used by Hydra are not gentle, and leave their mark even if you survive them,” Natasha cautioned. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Steve replied. “Even if he’s changed, I’ll love him just the same.” 

* 

Clint explained that they were to wait in the room for Fury, though Steve really didn’t see the reason why. He was going to find Bucky and the other captives no matter what these people had to say. He might appreciate a reprieve from the wretched ice and snow, but that didn’t mean he had any obligations to the people here beyond the basic rules of hospitality when a guest. 

At length Fury returned, and after another silent communique with Clint and Natasha, who then rose and began to gather up their things, turned to address Steve and Peggy. 

“I’m sure you two realize that you have been embarking on what is at best a fool’s errand, and at worst a suicide mission.” 

He continued on smoothly before Steve had a chance to rebuke him, “But that doesn’t mean that that’s the way it has to be now. We have other plans in motion that mean we cannot divert many of our people to help you, but Clint and Natasha will now be accompanying you on your rescue mission. We had been considering sending a small force out to try and infiltrate and disrupt operations in the area your people are most likely to be as part of our offensive, and it’s better to have the two of you involved than risk you blundering around and getting in our way.” 

Peggy took the lead on being diplomatic as Steve ground his teeth at the condescension of Fury’s tone. 

“Thank you for all of your assistance,” she said, achieving a remarkable facsimile of sincerity. 

“Think nothing of it,” Fury said with a smile that said he had interpreted her true meaning perfectly well. 

And so they were shown to rooms to sleep for the night, though as was the case with every night since Steve had heard the news, he did not sleep well. 

As they prepared to leave the following morning, new horses and supplies including a seemingly obscene amount of arrows joining what they already had, Fury came to see them off. 

“We received some new information last night that you all should be aware of. Hydra has apparently either recruited or ensnared a wolf creature of unknown provenance. Sightings from the area you are traveling to are reporting that it is extremely vicious, larger than a horse with jaws and teeth like swords able to eat a person in two bites, and with an armored foreleg.” 

“It doesn’t matter if it’s the largest beast in all the land, or if it can eat a dozen soldiers in one bite. It’s not going to get in our way,” Steve said, and went back to preparing to leave to continue the search for Bucky. 

* 

For all that Steve had not been happy with the circumstances of their introduction, Clint and Natasha were overall good traveling companions. They knew the area even better than Peggy, directing them to long abandoned hunter’s cabins and small caves to spend the night, and joined with Peggy in helping train Steve how to better fight with his new body. 

Steve would throw himself into his sparring with reckless abandon. His body would recover from nearly any injury come the morning, including broken bones and Natasha’s venomous bite. Any pain he experienced at the hand of his three tutors was worth it if it meant he would be more prepared to confront anyone who stood in the way of his rescue. 

And, as Clint was more than happy to point out, it wasn’t as if they lacked in ice and snow to ease Steve’s discomfort until the magic and science Erskine and Stark had worked upon him completed the healing process. 

Things continued on in this vein for the next portion of the journey, with the occasional setbacks and detours made necessary by the blasted winter around them. 

One such detour took them through a dense forest, where the tradeoff for a narrower path that was tricky to traverse was that the number of thickly bristled evergreens cut down on the amount of snow and bitter cold wind that more than anything else had been the true constants of the journey. 

Steve walked alongside the wagon instead of riding within to marvel at the sight of the trees, some that seemed to be taller than even the walls surrounding the town that had been all he had known for years. It was while he was looking up at the trees, trying to imagine what it would be like to see the world from atop them, when he saw something that very nearly made him stop in his tracks. 

He instead altered his pace until he reached Clint where he sat at the front of the wagon, next to Peggy who once more had the reins as she had the surest hand for steering the horses. 

“Clint,” Steve said, as evenly as he could, “There is a man in the trees over there,” he gestured with a small nod of his head. 

“I see him,” Clint said, stretching his arms out as if he were having a very vigorous yawn to obscure the fact that he was reaching for his bow. “Kill or warning shot? I’ll let you decide because you saw him first.” 

“Warning. After all, I’m happy that you held off on the kill shot when you first ran into us.” 

“Warning it is then,” Clint agreed, and in a flash his bow was in his hands and an arrow had been let loose toward the figure in the trees. 

And then there was the sound of great wings flapping, and the man in the tree flew above them, his shadow blocking out what little light was able to make its way through the trees before descending down to the ground, in front of the wagon’s path but off to the side. 

“Do you always shoot arrows at people who are deciding whether or not they want to say hello?” the man asked, his dark skin standing out starkly against the pale cream of his still extended wings that sprouted from his back, his cold weather outerwear tailored to allow their presence. 

“Surprisingly often,” Clint answered as he nocked another arrow. “Do you always fly around and spy on people near known Hydra territory?” 

“If I want to ensure that Hydra doesn’t capture me, yes, I do,” the winged man answered, crossing his arms. “But even though it seems like you all don’t have much by the way of manners going by your introduction, you don’t seem like Hydra to me.” 

“I gather you prefer our rudeness to Hydra trying to capture you for your wings?” Natasha asked, coming out from where she had been resting in the wagon. 

“They’ve already captured the rest of my clan and most of our neighbors as well,” the man said, his cool façade in the face of the weapons aimed at him fading to visible sadness as he spoke. “They raided the nests, ripped the fledglings right from their mothers’ arms, hunted the rest of us with nets coated in something that burned to the touch. Some of us were able to escape and hide for a time, but they returned with a monstrous wolf with an armored left foreleg who sniffed out what should have been our safe haven. He let out a howl so loud and unreal our equilibrium was lost for a short time and we could not fly. And that short time was all that was needed for Hydra to renew their assault.” 

He dropped his head “My partner in life and I were the last to be caught, and he begged me to leave even as they worked to force a compulsion collar around his throat,” he lifted his head back up, and Steve saw himself in the winged man’s eyes. “I did as Riley said, I fled with the intent to return for all of them, but instead I here I am, my wings nearly numb from the cold, alone and weaponless with no real means of attempting a rescue that wouldn’t have me captured immediately. I cannot give up, be it by fleeing to a land Hydra has not yet reached, nor by throwing my life or freedom away without even the tiniest sliver of hope that I could help at least one of those hurt and enslaved. So I have been waiting, and watching, to see if I could find any person or thing to aid me in my mission.” 

“You’ve found such,” Steve said, holding out his hand. “My name is Steve, and we would welcome you to come stand against Hydra with us.” 

The winged man’s face broke out into a grin as he looked at Steve’s outstretched hand, before reaching out to grasp it in his own. 

“You can call me Sam, and I had hoped that would be the case when your archer’s arrow did not strike true.” 

“My arrows are very eloquent like that,” Clint said in agreement, and then began a new circle of introductions all around. 

Later on, after they had made camp for the night, Steve was on first watch as they were far too close to known Hydra territory to be complacent. Sam sought him out, flexing his wings to free them of a dusting of snow before sitting down next to Steve under the modest protection of a strung up tarp they used to help shelter whoever was on watch. 

“Our situations are very similar,” Sam said, staring out into the dark night, the moon and the stars blocked by the trees, the snow longer seeming illuminated like it had for much of Steve’s journey. 

“Unfortunately, yes,” Steve agreed. 

“Do you worry as I do? That we won’t make it in time to find them alive? That even if we do, the rumors of what is done to captives beyond the compulsion collars…what if when we find them we can’t break through any deeper enchantments inflicted upon them? What if they are at the point where they can’t be saved?” 

“I have to believe that we are not too late,” Steve said slowly and carefully, willing it into truth, for both himself and Sam. “You must believe it too. We will save them. They may not be exactly as they were before this all happened, but I know, as far as Bucky and I go, even if he’s changed, I’ll love him just the same.” 

* 

They came upon the Hydra base and mine hybrid they suspected to be housing the friends and countrymen they were looking for a few days later. Clint went to scout it out to learn the layout and defenses while the rest stayed back and took stock at the tools they had at their disposal. Sam came across one of the final boxes that Stark had put into the wagon, the one that he had warned Steve to be careful of. It had gotten covered by furs and other miscellany only days into their journey, ignored by Steve, and unknown to Peggy who had not been in earshot when Stark gave his warning. 

“What are these?” Sam asked, prying the box open. Steve shrugged as Peggy and Natasha looked at the contents of the box. Natasha carefully picked one of the objects within to examine it closer. 

“These look like incendiary devices,” Peggy said. 

“Would this Stark fellow give you two incendiary devices without much explanation?” Natasha asked. 

“Probably yes,” Peggy sighed. 

“Well, not that it’s reassuring to know I’ve been using them as a chair, these could be very useful no matter what sort of news Clint reports back with,” Natasha said, delicately replacing the device in the box. 

Soon after they had finished their inventory Clint returned, his acquired information both good and bad. 

The layout was similar to what they had suspected based on Clint and Natasha’s past experiences on Hydra bases, which meant that the bulk of the captives were housed on the opposite end of the compound from the soldiers, with the buildings used for experimentation and storing weapons both magical and mundane equidistant between the two groups of barracks. 

“So it will go on as we assumed it would based on your past knowledge, with Sam, Clint, and I causing a distraction at the side of the base furthest from the captives, while Steve and Natasha work on freeing and then arming the captives to come at the Hydra troops from their flank,” Peggy said looking over the crude map Clint had drawn out. “Stark packed in a great deal of exceptionally interesting tools for us, so in addition to the more familiar weapons and the incendiary devices, he gave us some of these,” she lifted up a thin metallic rod with two prongs at the tip from where a dozen were laid out in front of her. “I’m a little surprised that he would send us off with something that didn’t have his maker’s mark on it, but I suppose that he decided to prioritize improving our chances of success overall rather than doing so only so far as it made him feel self-important. I’ll have to thank him for the sacrifice when I get back.” 

“What are those?” Steve asked, picking one up himself. He felt a certain buzzing hum through his skin where he held the object, the telltale sensation of a true magical artifact. 

“They’re magical disrupters,” Natasha explained with a grin. “Chaos Sticks. Able to temporarily make nearly any other magical item they touch inactive for a short while. Long enough to get a compulsion collar off, that’s for sure. Not enough for anyone with any of the more complex enchantments on them, those need either a complex counter-spell or the original caster’s death, but this is still a huge boon.” She idly twirled one in her fingers as if it were an oddly weighted baton. “They’re fairly rare, I wouldn’t be surprised if this alchemist of yours had them on hand because he was trying to deconstruct them to see if he could make them without imbuing them with real magic.” 

“Whatever the reason, we have them now, and enough of them to give out to speed things along once we start on freeing the hostages,” Clint said. “But you may want to rethink things a bit. You all leapt on the map so quickly you didn’t really give me a chance to give a complete report.” 

“What else is there?” Sam asked. “We know locations, roughly the number of both captives and soldiers, and even if we don’t know for sure what’s in the temple and other buildings where they do their experimentation, we had been expecting that would be the case.” 

“The ‘what else’ is that all three of them are here, Pierce, Johann, and Zola, when we had only been counting on Zola,” Clint explained. “I don’t know what they’re doing here when according to the information Fury had received they were supposed to be overseeing Hydra operations elsewhere. And they have that damn wolf with them.” He looked over at Sam. “You weren’t joking, that thing is a monster. And I normally love dogs.” 

“I wonder if Fury knows about this already…” Natasha mused under her breath. 

“It doesn’t matter if all three of those monsters are here, if they have a pack of wolves, or if Fury knows anything,” Steve said vehemently. “The essential information remains the same as it was before. If Fury is to march up with an army we’ll welcome it, just as we’ll welcome the chance to end the miserable existence of Pierce or Johann or Zola if they come into our grasp.” 

“We can’t afford to wait anymore.” 

Silence met him, and for a terrifying moment Steve had feared he overstepped, that they would call it all off, when Sam spoke up. 

“So I’ll be dropping the incendiaries from the air? Any insights in how to do that best so that I don’t get blasted myself?” 

And so the planning of the assault resumed as if there had been no interruption, and Steve gripped tight the shield that he had come to think of his own and thought ‘soon’. 

* 

It had been so long in formation, from the very moment Steve heard Peggy recount what had happened to Bucky and the others, that the rescue itself had a decidedly unreal quality to it for Steve, what was happening before his eyes either matching up with or overwriting scenarios he had played out in his head thousands upon thousands of times. 

Things went as smoothly as could be expected, Natasha and Steve having to kill or incapacitate the occasional guard as they made their way to the prisoners, the far off sounds of the others’ diversionary assault being carried on the icy wind. Once they reached the first of the prisoners the Chaos Sticks worked like the charms they were, breaking the enchantment of both compulsion and locking with one brief touch. The first they freed were eager to take up the additional Sticks, freeing dozens of their fellow captives before Steve had finished asking a captive he thought looked a little familiar if he knew of Bucky. 

Another few dozen were freed by the time the man said no. 

And so it continued on as such, more prisoners freed by the minute, and no word of Bucky. 

Steve was relieved to find a group of winged prisoners, and even more so when the first words out of the mouth of one of them was ‘Is Sam with you?’ 

“Yes,” Steve said, releasing him from his collar and trying to take heart in the fact that at least there was some good news for his friend today. “He’s on the other side of the compound with-” 

“Little Steve! Not so little anymore!” a voice called out, interrupting him. Steve turned around to see one of the men Bucky had worked with. He was sure of it this time, as it was very hard to forget or mistake Dugan. 

“Dugan!” Steve yelled back in return, and was greeted with a hearty clap on the shoulder. 

“Of anybody I dreamed of walking in to rescue us, somehow the thought of you with another near foot of height and one hundred pounds of muscles never occurred to me, but at least that means Jim and Gabe didn’t win for their choices either,” Dugan said with a smile though his face was dirty and bruised, and far thinner than Steve had ever seen it. 

“You mean you were gambling on a rescue?” Steve asked, and yes he saw two more of Bucky’s fellows behind Dugan, looking wan as well, but also grinning just the same. 

“Not so much real gambling as trying not to go mad, but see how well it all worked out!” 

Steve could only nod for a moment before he regained his focus. If anyone would know the answer to his question it would be these men. 

“Dugan,” Steve asked, “please, you have to tell me what happened to Bucky.” 

As Steve had feared, very little good had happened to Bucky. According to Dugan and the others he had been among the living during transport to the base, but shortly after arrival he had been singled out and taken away by men, who based on their descriptions, Steve knew to be Zola and Pierce, into the area where experimentation was done. But… 

“We never saw his body though. Others that were taken, we saw what happened to them,” Jim told Steve. “But we never saw so much as a hair of Bucky once they took him in.” 

“I knew it, I knew he was still alive,” Steve said, gripping Jim’s shoulder so hard he other man winced. 

“Steve, we don’t know, this was right when we first got here, and-” 

“He’s alive,” Steve said firmly, before turning to seek out Natasha. “Natasha, do you think we’re ready to raid the weapons stores yet?” 

“I think everyone here is more than ready for that,” she answered, releasing what looked to be one of the last few that were still collared. “I’d even go so far as to call many of them downright eager.” 

“Good. We’ll get them to the armory, then you take over getting them armed and then moving everyone to the agreed meeting point,” Steve said. 

“I’m going to find Bucky.” 

* 

They all set out for the central buildings together, Natasha at the lead and Steve at the rear. They ran into very little trouble on the way over, the sounds of yelling and explosions telling them that the others were doing just fine in their half of the mission. 

But it was at that point that all of the good luck they had benefited from up until that point evaporated, with the sound of a deep growl that reverberated through Steve’s very bones. 

Steve yelled at the released captives to keep following Natasha into the relative safety of the armory, and turned to face where the sound had come from. 

No one had been exaggerating about the size of the wolf, not at all. 

Its shoulders were on a level with Steve’s own, its head and jaw indeed large enough to eat a man in two bites if given the opportunity, though he was unable to see if the teeth were indeed like swords as its face was covered by a massive leather and metal muzzle. 

The armored foreleg that everyone had mentioned looked queer to Steve, as if it wasn’t armor fit over the limb so much as the limb itself, judging by the way it fused into the joint. 

But there was something about the beast, something beyond its immense size and frightful visage, that demanded Steve’s focus, something intangible, but also more important than the matted grey, black and brown fur, the obvious power in the body, the gusts of hot breath taking shape in the cold air, or the claws on its paws, one set shining metal. 

There was something familiar about the wolf. 

Steve was so intent on the wolf that he didn’t initially register the two men who stood by the animal’s side. But once he did he felt his blood grow hot; as based on the descriptions given by Peggy and Natasha, the two men could only be Pierce and Zola. 

“What an interesting specimen you are,” Zola said, in the smug tone of someone who is sure they are getting their way. “Our dog here wasn’t even supposed to be let out of his cage today, but he was making such a fuss we decided to see what had him so excited,” he grinned, his expression reminiscent of a vicious rodent. “He caught your scent, even tucked away in his cage. I wonder what makes you of such interest to him?” 

“I’m here to stop you,” Steve said, ignoring what Zola was saying, not trying to wonder himself, and focusing on what was important. “You’re evil and a blight on the land, and I won’t stand by and let you go on hurting people.” 

“Now son,” Pierce said, almost placating, “some people may get hurt at first, but it’s all for the greater good. For a future that’s better for everyone, even if they don’t quite understand it now. He smiled as he reached up to unlatch the muzzle holding the wolf’s jaws in check. 

“You’ll understand it if you manage to survive our charming Winter Wolf here.” 

The muzzle fell to the ground, and Steve readied himself and his shield for an attack from those teeth that, yes, were fairly comparable to swords, but none came. Instead the wolf continued to stare at him, until Pierce let the amicable expression drop from his face and struck at the wolf with a metal rod that sparked with electricity. 

“Go you stupid thing!” 

And with that the beast was upon him, Steve managing to only barely position his shield right in time to keep the wolf from biting his face clear off. 

He strained to hold his shield steady as the wolf continued to bear down on him, saliva from its open mouth dripping down onto Steve’s arms and soaking through his clothes. He could still hear Zola and Pierce talking between themselves, and even though he was concentrating on the matter at hand involving razor teeth and bone crushing jaws, some of what the two men were so nonchalantly saying couldn’t help but filter through. 

“I would prefer him alive though,” he heard Zola say as if he were a petulant child. “I know his corpse could still be interesting, but you see the success we’ve already had with our Winter Wolf! I’ve no doubt this one would be able to survive the transformation spell fully intact now that we’ve perfected it.” 

“We can always find you more subjects for transformation later,” Pierce said. “Now is the time to see if our wolf will finally get his fangs bloody on a person.” 

Steve ducked down and rolled so that he was underneath the belly of the beast, thrusting the flat surface of his shield up to try to knock the wind out of it, and buy himself a moment to think. 

The wolf let out a pained huff and stood still as Steve’s mind raced, possibilities on what he had been told before, on what he had just heard just now, on what he felt when he first saw the wolf, on what he felt in his very core, all coming together in one seemingly impossible glowing kernel of hope. 

He grabbed hold of a hank of the wolf’s fur and swung himself up and over so that he lay across the wolf’s back. The wolf had recovered from Steve’s blow, and tried to buck him off, but Steve held on fast, gripping the fur tight and pulling himself forward along the wolf’s back until he was at the head, close enough to stare into an achingly familiar blue eye. 

“Bucky, it’s you, isn’t it? I know it’s you, I know it.” 

“What is he doing, Pierce, what is he doing?!” Steve heard Zola’s shrill scream like he was listening underwater, all that mattered was the searching look in Bucky’s eye as his growling subsided. 

“The bastards must have known each other before and your spells and modifications weren’t as effective as you thought, that’s what’s happening!” Pierce yelled in reply even as Steve gently carded his hand through the fur on Bucky’s face and continued to whisper affirmations to him. 

“I know it’s you Bucky, I’d recognize you anywhere. 

“And even though you’ve changed, I love you just the same.” 

And then everything seemed to happen at once, the searching look in Bucky’s eyes turned to one of true recognition, and Steve felt a burst of pain, unlike anything he had felt since Stark’s contraption, shoot through him. He fell off of Bucky’s back, unable to keep his grip, and looked up blearily from the ground to see Pierce standing over him, wielding the pain rod. He thrust it against Bucky sharply twice, shouting out ‘Stay back you stupid mutt!’ and making Bucky howl with pain before turning his attention back to Steve. 

“You’ve become too troublesome to justify any potential interest you might have for us,” he said looking down, his eyes colder than the winter he had helped create. “I think we’ll chop you up and feed you to your old friend here. A nice tidy ending for everyone.” 

Steve tried to force his limbs to move, but they barely obeyed him, allowing him to roll over and prop up his upper body, but little more. He saw Pierce lowering the magical rod and tried to brace himself for the next wave of pain. 

But it was a hurt that never came, as within a blink of an eye Bucky was upon Pierce, jaws latching onto the back of his neck as if he were a favored toy. Pierce stabbed at Bucky with the rod, and though sparks were set off every time it connected to Bucky’s flesh he paid it no heed, instead continuing to shake Pierce until those cold eyes went empty. 

Bucky dropped Pierce to the ground with a dull thud, the impact muffled by the snow. He walked gingerly over to Steve and nudged at him with his snout, trying to help push him up on his feet. 

“I’m alright, Bucky, I’m alright,” Steve said, petting Bucky with still clumsy hands. 

“No, no, no!” He heard Zola shout, and turned to see the wizard preparing to lob a spell at them. Steve mustered his strength to fling his shield at Zola, causing him to double over and the spell to dissipate. A second later there was a knife sticking out of his forehead. 

Steve looked to the direction the knife must have come from and saw Natasha, casually flipping a second knife in her hand. 

“You were taking too long to catch up,” she said. “So I decided to help speed things along. Aside from my own less than fond memories of the little troll, this was much quicker than trying to find enough wizards and sorcerers powerful enough to create counter spells.” She gestured to the air around them with the knife. “The wind and the snow have already started dying down, the weather witches he enchanted must be breaking free already.” 

“Breaking enchantments,” Steve breathed out, whipping back around to face Bucky. He was in flux, a wolf and not a wolf, a man and not a man, neither and both all at once until he settled into a man, settled into _Bucky,_ and collapsed as Steve rushed to his side. 

“Bucky, Bucky, are you alright?” Steve asked frantically, helping Bucky sit up, and then stripping off his coat to cover Bucky’s naked form. The metal arm remained, no doubt some remnant of another experiment they had attempted on him before the wolf enchantment. It didn’t matter, not so long as Bucky was back. 

“Steve,” Bucky said, reaching up to touch Steve’s face. “You’ve changed.” 

“Yes, yes, I did,” Steve answered, his throat tight. 

“It’s alright,” Bucky said, tracing his fingertips along Steve’s mouth. “Even though you’ve changed, I love you just the same.” 

* 

And after that there was the end of the battle, the arrival of Fury and his troops, who to the delight of Natasha, had indeed found out about the change in Hydra’s plans, and the execution of Johann, while the air around them warmed to what it should be for the time of year. 

There was Sam reunited with his people and his mate, Peggy being thanked and embraced by friends she had once thought she had to leave behind, and Clint adopting a number of half-starved dogs that had been in one of the experimentation rooms, once he was assured they were truly dogs, and fed them food from everyone else’s plates. 

There was Steve and Bucky, wrapped up in each other, and making plans to go back home for a time, to thank Erskine and Stark if nothing else, but then to travel the land to see what it held, to help those who had been in need of help as they had been. 

And as the years passed the tales of them grew and spread, some tellings more one way, some another. But some things always remained constant. 

There was a land, once. 

Two people met there and fell in love. 

They were both hurt many times but would never back down, and always tried to do what was right. 

And no matter how their lives changed them, they loved each other just the same. 


End file.
